


Forgetting

by purplekitte



Category: Warhammer: Age of Sigmar
Genre: Fic but also mostly meta/speculation, Gen, Stormcast, That I wanted to write down to flesh out more in further stories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplekitte/pseuds/purplekitte
Summary: ‘Why do we forget?’ the Stormcast asked.





	Forgetting

‘Why do we forget?’ the Stormcast asked. It worried him, somewhat, that he remembered nothing. His brothers and sisters spoke of fractured memories and half-remembered images. He wondered if it was better or worse to remember nothing. Was he was Sigmar had intended, or was his life some flaw to be hammered out?

‘The legend goes, the chosen of Sigmar are the greatest of warriors from the mortal realms, chosen at the moment of a glorious, noble death upon the battlefield,’ Sigmar told him, the God-King’s voice a low rumble like the patter of rain beckoning a child to sleep. He nodded in confirmation, but Sigmar continued, ‘That is an easy story, a neat and convenient story, but it is rarely true.

‘There are few warriors in the world, even the world-as-it-is. There are many more peasants, more outcasts and pariahs. There are many more slaves. There are as many who lose wars as win them, and fewer still in war after war after war who stay on top. I honour glory in battle, but there’s a simplicity to a brave and noble last stand on a battlefield. There’s an ease to a single moment like a flash of lightning compared to a lifetime of keeping the lantern lit.

‘Some of you died in a blaze of glory, but many of you lived through whatever virtuous deed you did to attract my attention. Many of you were beaten and maimed, violated and degraded, owned and used for years, decades, sometimes entire lifetimes. Yet you retained a spark of the light. You did what little good you could for others, however little you had yourselves. You wished for something more. You prayed to me that you would have liked the chance to be a hero. You would have liked to bring the light even one other person, even if you had lived in darkness to long to remember what it looked like. Is that not as worthy as a warrior dying in my name? Are the lowly and the victims unworthy of me?

‘Some of you cursed my name instead of praising it, in righteous indignation on the behalf of people who were faithful to me who I did not save from such a fate. I don’t apologise for my actions, but I don’t expect only sycophants or perfectly cold and logical consideration of the larger picture of the realms. I _did_ abandon them, if for a goal I consider greater. They had no way to know that, and they are welcome to disagree even if I explain it all to them. Is their rage not a reflection of my own? People are allowed to react to trauma without it tearing them from my side--some virtue can be clung to, or can be re-learned. I will not call you ruined for what others did to you.’

The Stormcast suspected Sigmar told him of his own life, but no memories sparked. No familiarity, nothing. He had his lurid imagining of what a life could have been like, but they were only things he’d heard in cautionary tales. ‘So we forget. Are we not strong enough to bear it?’

‘You bear everything that ever happened to you for your entire mortal life. As my warriors, though, your purpose must be all-consuming. There are choices to make during the Forging, your choices, but you forget even what you are forgetting by the time it is done. I regret that it pains you, but if you remembered why you chose, you would remember.’ Sigmar ruffled his hair, even his light touch stinging with static and making every hair on his head stand on end. ‘That is why you lose the good times as well as the bad. Memories are not parcelled out like peas in a pod to be picked or left behind one by one. There can be strength in bearing pain, but it can leave a soul too burdened for any other weights. It is not unworthy to set it aside and forget in order to move on. You decided what would consume you to remember and what tempers you in the forge.

‘There is too much pain in the realms for anyone to hold onto each scrap of it. Even if it is worthy of being heard and remembered and avenged. Even for me. So we fight for an ideal, not any individual.’

The Stormcast nodded and bowed his head in acknowledgement of the God-King. It was not a fair answer, not how things should be, but so it was because life was not fair. If it did not give him comfort, it give him agency. This forgetting was something he had chosen then, not something that had been imposed on him. He was who he had chosen to be.


End file.
